"Maker, my boating hat." Flat as her own affect. Hello, Petrana. Isaac steps clear of the mirror's path. The better not to be bodied by fleeing gondoliers. "I suppose we ought to ask one another whether we're demons."
The little ring stands empty, unreflected for the roil of magic over glass. Isaac eyes her get-up. Appreciatively specific, she's always held attention to detail. His own sleeves wear thin about the ends, good cloth picked with small, conspicuous repairs: A hand unskilled for mending, unused to the need. Hard times.
He glances for the Minrathousian mirror, probably that's it, deliberate on the jerk of a chin.
"What do you think?"
Of imposters. Of their assuredly mutual destination (she's not scrambling out a sea cave in that).
no subject
"Maker, my boating hat." Flat as her own affect. Hello, Petrana. Isaac steps clear of the mirror's path. The better not to be bodied by fleeing gondoliers. "I suppose we ought to ask one another whether we're demons."
The little ring stands empty, unreflected for the roil of magic over glass. Isaac eyes her get-up. Appreciatively specific, she's always held attention to detail. His own sleeves wear thin about the ends, good cloth picked with small, conspicuous repairs: A hand unskilled for mending, unused to the need. Hard times.
He glances for the Minrathousian mirror, probably that's it, deliberate on the jerk of a chin.
"What do you think?"
Of imposters. Of their assuredly mutual destination (she's not scrambling out a sea cave in that).